Seeing Red
by darth kittius
Summary: Bill becomes distracted by a pair of shoes.


**Author's Notes: **First, a SUPER big thank you to **gfeather** for the fantastic beta job! This plot bunny started as a Charlie/Hermione fic but then Bill got a hold of it and wouldn't let go. *throws hands up and surrenders to the plot bunnies*

* * *

It was her red heels that finally did it; that finally made him see her, not as a friend, but as...he wasn't quite sure yet, but much more than a friend. (Who even knew she had red heels that high?)

Now all he could see was red. Maybe he should have been green with envy. But he wasn't; it was red that was dominating his thoughts: red with anger, trying to figure out who she had worn those shoes for; red with sudden lust; red with embarrassment from even seeing the shoes and thinking what he thought; red, literally, on his face from tripping into the wall of the entryway – again.

He reasoned with himself while apparating to Diagon Alley, those simply couldn't be her shoes. Vowing not to think of them again, Bill proceeded to his office in Gringotts. He enjoyed working on a Saturday because he could get something done with the rest of his department out having fun, enjoying the weekend. It was just him and the goblins today. He could push out all of his thoughts, completely throwing himself into his work.

Unfortunately the bloody shoes were still there when he apparated back home that evening. Not 'there' exactly – they had been straightened, and placed off to the side of the entry way, leaving no doubt who the owner was; they could only belong to one person - his roommate, his best friend, and his ex-sister-in-law, Hermione.

Bill and Hermione had been unlikely friends and improbable roommates. But after Fleur died tragically and Ron and Hermione divorced, well, it had seemed like the best thing to do. When Fleur died, in the ocean, out at sea, away from him, Bill's world came crashing down. He couldn't stay at Shell Cottage. It reminded him of her at every turn and was too close to the where she was taken from him. So he closed up his happy home, cast a Stasis Charm, placed new wards around his land, and bought too large of a flat in London. He didn't count on Victoire, Dominique and Louis wanting to spend every moment they could with their cousins, or school friends, or on a summer exchange, or anywhere really other than with their mourning father.

So when Ron and Hermione announced at a family dinner six months later their mutual decision to dissolve their marriage (but keep their friendship), as they put it, Bill had more than enough space to help out. He had offered a room to Ron, of course. But Ron insisted Hermione would be better suited for city life. Ron was keeping their home, near Harry's, just outside Godric's Hollow. Hermione agreed with the decision, visiting both Ron and Harry's homes often, but their house had suited Ron more than it had her; so she moved into Bill's spare bedroom.

The first few months, Bill and Hermione settled into a routine and their relationship was pretty much unchanged from before they were flatmates – not exactly unfriendly, but simply operating in different spheres. That is, until one evening, three months into their living arrangement, when Hermione arrived home earlier than usual and found Bill in tears in their sitting room. Hermione immediately sprung into her care giving mode and comforted him as best she was able, by hugging him before breaking down into tears herself. Through his tears and embarrassment, Bill admitted he was not doing that well with Fleur's death and the kids seemingly abandoning him to his grief. Hermione in turn admitted that while the decision to divorce was very much a mutual one, she felt guilty about missing so much of her children's lives, and her best friends; she felt uneasy around the rest of the Weasley's who did not know how to react to an amicable divorce; she worried she should be doing more to encourage Ron to get out of the house more often and she was unsure how to get on with her own.

With their emotions laid bare, Bill and Hermione collapsed into their beds during the wee hours of that morning, having solidified a friendship that would serve as a lifesaver of sorts for both of them. They settled into a routine that others could –and did – set their clocks to. Monday – Friday were spent throwing themselves into their work; trying to forget, trying to mend. They each had after-work commitments almost every day of the week: therawizard appointments, charity work, spending time with their respective kids, with friends, running errands...the list went on and on. They returned home every week night, often to a last glass of elfin wine, and telling each other about their day. Fridays they each went out with friends, or on dates. Recently it had been a string of dates for each of them; they were actively trying to move on – therawizard's orders. Saturdays were still work for them both, but later starts and they left by five without fail. It was the weekend after all. Saturday evenings were for the kids, or as the kids were often unavailable, usually solitary time with a good book. Sundays were family days, and they considered each other family too. They started by racing each other for whom would get up first to get breakfast cooking because the first of them to get to the kitchen also got to cast a duplicating charm on their choice of journal article, which they both devoured just as quickly as their food, before embarking on what was often a multiple hour debate over charms or potions or magical theories. Then they rushed off to the Burrow to spend lunch and the afternoon with whatever Weasley relations were on the island, before an evening spent reading and preparing for the week ahead, usually with dinner prepared by the loser of the morning race.

Bill knew Hermione well enough that it had not surprised him to trip over Hermione's shoes in the entry hall. Her shoes from Friday nights were always haphazardly scattered where she had toed them off after arriving. But Bill always forgot they would be there, tripping every Saturday morning on his way to work. No, her shoes being there was normal. What was NOT normal were the shoes themselves. Hermione wore attractive brown or black boots with a sensible (and short) heel. On occasion, when she was feeling optimistic about her date, or was attending a special occasion, she may dust off her slightly higher black heels with a thin silver bow.

Bill could even get a sense of how her evening went by how they were scattered in the entrance hall. If completely askew, she had probably been rushing for the loo, which means she drank a bit too much. If they were tilted to the side, looking like she had just walked out of them, she was probably feeling just a bit sad, tired or sorry for herself. If they were one to the side and one upright, she probably had enjoyed herself just enough and had a good evening. If they were absent, which was rare, then she had a REALLY good night. Good for her.

She was usually the second to work on Saturday mornings, so on his return he would always note she had moved the shoes off to the side of the entrance hall. This day he stood glaring at the evidence before him. He had convinced himself they were not her shoes. Maybe Dominique was home for the night? Or Hermione had brought a drunk friend back; it would not be completely out of character, although unusual for sure. But there was really no other explanation for the four inch red heels that were now sitting there, perfectly lined up by their entrance table, right where her shoes always were until she moved them Sunday before heading to the Burrow.

And now he couldn't get the thought of her wearing those heels out of his head. What would she have worn them with? Robes or one of her muggle outfits? WHO could she have gone out with? Where could they have gone? What were they doing? He couldn't remember. Usually he remembered everything she said. But all he could see was red, the red of her shoes, the cream of her legs, the…

"AHHHH!" Bill sent a hex uselessly at the floor as he crossed into their sitting room, before pouring himself a firewiskey and brooding at the fireplace therein.

He was four fingers in, maybe five, before Hermione returned from work with a soft pop and a shuffle as she hung up her overrobe. She was crossing through the sitting room, intent on getting to the kitchen, when Bill stood suddenly, "Where were you last night?"

Hermione gasp and whirled to face him, wand out. "Last night?" She quickly sheathed her wand and tilted her head in assessment, of him or his question he did not know, "Last night or tonight?"

Bill tried to stop himself from stalking over to her, but he ended up taking a large step towards her. "Yes, last night. Friday night. Who were you with?" He softened his voice. "I don't remember where you were going. You got home late."

Hermione raised her eyes. "I didn't know you were keeping track."

"I'm not. I wasn't." Bill looked at her with a challenge in his eyes.

Hermione responded in an almost ironic voice, "I was with your sister and Angelina. We took Luna out to celebrate her engagement to Blaise."

"And that required _those_ shoes?" Bill shot a dark glance towards the entrance hall.

Hermione's eyebrows retracted and she shook her head as if to clear it, maybe to clear this conversation from her head. "What shoes, Bill?"

He gestured. "Those shoes. Those high, red heels. They couldn't have been comfortable. Where could you possibly have gone in those shoes?"

Hermione almost laughed at him, but caught herself. "Uh, we went to a muggle club. We thought it would be funny given that Luna is marrying one of the 'princes of the wizarding world.'" After making air quotes with her fingers, she turned to continue into the kitchen while calling over her shoulder, "Don't worry, I cast cushioning, stabilizing and warming charms before I left the flat." She clearly thought the conversation was over and began to put on a kettle for her evening tea.

Bill was unable to control himself though and followed her. "Did you talk to anyone?"

"What on earth are you on about, Bill? Of course I did, I talked to Gin, Angie and Luna." She started to pull down her favorite cup and saucer set, "Oh and there were the most delectable Frenchmen at the table next to us…. Pierre and Johan, I believe they said their names were."

Bill virtually growled at this comment, causing Hermione to turn around with yet another confused expression on her face. "And it was for these muggles that you wore those ridiculous shoes?"

Hermione moved to reach the whistling kettle before answering with a sigh, "Bill, you know that women dress for each other, not for men. I was going out with two of the most happily married witches I know, celebrating a third's against-the-odds love affair. I wanted to feel special."

"And did you?" Bill challenged.

Hermione smirked. "I was dazzling."

Bill just stared at her intensely. Hermione was about to move again, when he suddenly closed the remaining gap between them and pressed her up against their counter. "Next time you'll wear those for me, and only me." With that he lowered his head and kissed her while possessively wrapping his arms around her. As she leaned in, eagerly participating in the kiss, he realized he was very glad he had tripped over those particular shoes that morning.


End file.
